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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105823">From Rubble and Ash</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle'>Oricalle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Slow Romance, Spoilers, Verdant Wind route, cameos from other characters - Freeform, some description of injuries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>General Ladislava Svoboda falls at the Bridge of Myrddin, but she slips through Death's fingers.  When she wakes, Fodlan is not as she knew it, and she finds herself in enemy territory.  With the Empire she swore allegiance to no more, and the war she staked her life on lost, Ladislava must navigate her way to a new purpose at the side of a woman from Leicester.  </p><p>The past, however, is not content to stay buried forever.</p><p>6/4/20 Note: Updated the tags for some upcoming content!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ladislava/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From atop her wyvern, Ladislava surveys the Great Bridge.  They had been warned, of course, of the approach of Duke Riegan’s forces.  Preparations had been made, the armies of House Gloucester sortied beneath the crimson banner of the Empire.  But Riegan’s forces were said to approach from the north, and be at least two days away on horseback.  The band she sees is coming from the east, and they are close enough to be seen through a spyglass.</p><p>With a frown, she directs her wyvern down, landing with a thud next to a lavishly armored horse.  Passing the spyglass back into her ally’s hands, she shakes her head.</p><p>“A surprise attack.  Quite a risky maneuver.  Who would try something like this?”</p><p>“Claude.  It’s got to be.”  With his long hair blowing in the crisp spring wind, Ferdinand von Aegir looks more like a fairy-tale prince than a general.</p><p>But with the world how it is, Ladislava has never believed in fairy tales, and found generals more dependable by far.</p><p>“Would Duke Riegan truly risk his own life on such a gambit?”</p><p> </p><p>Ferdinand chuckles, but there is no joy in it.  “I knew Claude at the academy.  He’s risked more on less.”  His expression darkens, and the tips of his fingers graze the handle of his lance.  Ferdinand looks more troubled than Ladislava has ever seen him.</p><p>“Do you feel uneasy, challenging a former classmate?”</p><p>With a shake of his head, Ferdinand sighs.  “Yes.  Of course I do.  I feel uneasy raising my lance against Claude.  I feel uneasy wielding a weapon in his homeland.  I feel uneasy every time I charge into battle, knowing full well I may be killing an innocent man.”  A sudden gust sends Ferdinand’s locks flying, whipping against his face.  “But ah!  This is what war is, I suppose.”</p><p>Ladislava crosses her arms.  “Not as glorious as in the storybooks.”</p><p>“And not nearly as noble.”  With a heavy sigh, Ferdinand takes the reins of his steed into his hands, turning to face the east side of the Bridge.  “I’ll trust your command, General.”</p><p>Ladislava bows her head.  “I won’t let you down.”</p><p> </p><p>It is only an hour later that she watches Ferdinand von Aegir die.</p><p> </p><p>The Duke’s personal strike force hits the bridge like lightning.  Their force is small, compact, mobile, and every once of the Leicester troops fights like ten of Ladislava’s own.  She watches as a diminutive mage releases a pulse of fire with a wave of her hands, and it incinerates half of an entire squadron of Imperial infantry.</p><p>“Where the hell are our reinforcements?” she shouts to no one in particular.</p><p>“We sent a messenger to Acheron-” begins a captain, his wyvern hovering unsteadily next to her own.</p><p>“Acheron is a craven fool.” she hisses.  “We can’t count on him.  Form up on me, we must assist von Aegir!”</p><p>With a roar from her mount, Ladislava surges forward, her axe pointed ahead as she cuts a path through the open sky.  At the far edge of her vision, she can see Ferdinand, perched atop his horse as he fends off an advancing foe.</p><p>“Guard his flanks!” she shouts, before swooping down, the familiar sensation of wind rushing against her face serving to center her mind.  For a moment, there is only her weapon, her wyvern, and the Leicester cavalryman below, his bow trained on Ferdinand’s head, the arrow seconds from release.  With a swoop of her axe, she relieves her foe of his life, jamming the steel blade into his chest with a fluid motion.</p><p>The man crumples.  The horse flees, sending the rider’s corpse clattering to the bridge below.  </p><p>Onto the next one.</p><p>Ladislava has no skill for dancing, but she has always envied the ballerinas that sometimes perform at Mittelfrank Opera House.  They are in the back of her mind as she carves out a rhythm in the heat of the battle, systematically diving upon foe after foe, each attack but another beat in her deadly waltz.  Arrows and bolts of magic fly her way, but she is too nimble, too focused to be hit.  Her wyvern twists in the air like a runaway kite, just as he was trained.  He too, is a dancer, and in this battle their duet is unstoppable.</p><p>She spies another foe, on foot, their verdant hair whipping in the wind as they rush forward.  This is the next step.</p><p>Ladislava dives, and the music changes.</p><p>One moment, she is perfect, axe at the ready, eyes trained on her target.  The next, they are suddenly gone, and her axe swoops through empty air, the scream of the blade doing nothing but mocking her.  </p><p>Her foe is several paces back now, but she never saw them move.  With a flick of their wrist, they unfurl a mysterious weapon, a glowing blade with an ethereal chain attached.</p><p>This, Ladislava realizes too late, is the Ashen Demon.</p><p>Pain sears through her as the Sword of the Creator lashes at her side, the blade’s force tearing through her armor.   From here, her opponent has the advantage, so Ladislava rises high into the air, seeking a better angle as her heart pounds in her chest.  She’s heard the way Edelgard speaks of the Demon, with equal parts reverence and trepidation.  Anyone who can unsettle the Emperor deserves all the caution she can take.  As she circles them, out of the corner of her eye, Ladislava sees it happen.</p><p>Ferdinand is locked in combat with another horseman, clad in purple armor.  She’d find it gaudy if the man weren’t so clearly experienced, using his own lance to parry each of Lord von Aegir’s blows.  The pair seem evenly matched, but the thunder of hooves on the bridge brings an imbalance.  Charging from the east is Acheron Albi Edgar, lord of Myrrdin and all-around wretch.  His sword is at the ready, but he is wobbling on his horse, gilded armor rattling like a box of marbles.</p><p>He attempts to skewer the Leicester paladin, but the purple-armored man swiftly swerves out of the way, raising his lance and thrusting it through Acheron’s breastplate.  The force of the blow knocks the lord’s corpse from his steed, and the runaway horse collides with Ferdinand’s mount in a panicked frenzy.</p><p>This is all the opening the mage needs.</p><p>It is a single bolt of lightning, aimed for his open throat, that kills Ferdinand.  As he goes limp, all that Ladislava can be grateful for is that it appears to be a painless death.</p><p>It offers little comfort when his corpse is jostled over the edge of the bridge, and the von Aegir heir tumbles into the Airmid river.</p><p>A voice jostles her from her trance.</p><p>“Seems to me that’s the end of the battle.  Why not fly back home and tell Edelgard to stop this foolishness?”</p><p>The wyvern that has risen next to hers is almost entirely silent, and its skin is a shocking white.  But for all the awe she should be feeling at seeing such an impressive creature, Ladislava cannot help but stare at the rider.</p><p>Clad in the full regalia of the Leicester alliance, Duke Claude von Riegan has the bearing of a leader, but the youthful face of an upstart.  A hatchet sits in his hands, a yellow jewel at the tip of its handle, and his Hero’s Relic is slung across his back.</p><p>“Duke Riegan.” she states.  “I will never surrender the Bridge.”</p><p>Claude cocks an eyebrow.  “Don’t you think that’s just a tad unreasonable?  You’re an intelligent woman, General Ladislava.  The Emperor wouldn’t keep you so close if you weren’t.  This battle is finished.”</p><p>“Perhaps.” she replies.  She readies her axe.  “But the war is not.  Not yet.”</p><p>With a sigh, Claude draws his weapon.  “Hey.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</p><p>Ladislava strikes first, trying to gut the young lord with a stab, but Claude’s reflexes are as sharp as his wit.  He easily jukes out of the way of the strike and prepares his wyvern to circle around.  She brings her weapon up just in time to block his passing blow, a quick swipe with the hatchet that would have easily dislodged her head were she a few moments slower.  Clearly, Riegan’s skill is no mere rumor.  Quickly taking stock of the situation, Ladislava realizes that her allied wyvern riders are nowhere to be found, either on other parts of the battlefield or already slain.</p><p>Fine, then.  A duel.  Just like the drills.</p><p>She brings her axe down in a vertical slice, but Claude is too quick once more.  His wyvern tilts itself, and his grip on the reins keeps him from falling off as her blade meets empty air once more.  With a smirk, Claude raises his hatchet and hacks at his opponent, forcing Ladislava back.</p><p>For all of her combat training, the Imperial general is not easily flustered, but she must admit that the Duke’s cocky smirk is getting to her.  She also notes the gleam in his eyes as he reaches back, hatchet clenched in his hand.</p><p>
  <em>He wouldn’t.</em>
</p><p>With a shout, Claude hurls the hatchet, and Ladislava ducks just in time to her it whistle through the space that her head once occupied.  When she looks up, her heart skips a beat.  </p><p>The Riegan heir is hovering before the sun, casting a shadow that looms across the battlefield below.  The jovial nature in his face has melted away, and his expression is stony as he stares, the legendary bow Failnaught clutched in his hands.  An arrow is nocked, and Ladislava knows her battle has ended.  The glare of the oncoming sun, or perhaps the shame of defeat, forces her eyes shut as she makes a final desperate attempt to dodge.</p><p>Her wyvern lets out a harrowing scream, and she can feel its hot blood spatter on her face.  Suddenly, Ladislava is falling.  The Duke, the bridge, and the war rush away from her as she tumbles through the air, her wyvern’s corpse dangling from the stone edge of Myrddin.</p><p>
  <em>Emperor Edelgard, I’m so sor-</em>
</p><p>Pain wracks her body and stops the thought short as she collides with the water, the impact shattering her wits and bones alike.  The current rushes around her, her enchanted armor keeping her barely afloat, but drowning is suddenly the least of her concerns.</p><p>All Ladislava knows is agony as the world goes black.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Super Secret Author's Notes:</p><p>-It's time for a new fic!  How will I get the readers' attention?  *Eyes dart to a red button labeled "KILL OFF A BELOVED CHARACTER IN THE PROLOGUE"*</p><p>-Sorry Ferdie, you're still one of my favorite characters, I promise!</p><p> </p><p>Welcome to a fic that's been a long time coming!  Back in January, I posted the fifteenth chapter of a fic called "Luck of the Draw" that included a mention of Ladislava and "GIFs".  A commenter named RisingChaos made a joke about "Ladislava's GFs" and I went "HMMMMMMMMMMMMMM", audibly, for several minutes.  That was a subject I was interested in writing about!  I came up with the basic outline for a story that night, but let the idea mostly simmer as I worked on completing my major project.</p><p>Now that LotD is finished, I'm proud to announce that idea has borne fruit!  This story is intended to be my new "long-term" project, and it's a subject I'm very excited to write about and show you all!  I have a well documented weakness for side-characters, and Ladislava was one I absolutely wanted to work with.  While this story won't be as light-hearted as LotD, I hope it's still something you'll enjoy reading!</p><p>So anyway, please tune in to my fic about a wyvern-riding woman presented as an antagonist with a noble personality who you encounter while fighting back against the invasion of an allied nation and who ultimately falls at your hand, the focus of a fic by me that will deal with her coping with life after canonical death and finding love in an unexpected place as she grapples with the consequences of her actions!</p><p>wait</p><p>what do you mean that's laegjarn i was talking about ladislava</p><p>wait</p><p>OH NO INTSYS FOUND MY TYPE THEY'VE GOT ME UNDER THEIR THUMBS HOW DID THEY-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beneath the marble statues of Adrestian emperors, regents, kings, and a goddess, a single wooden table sat in the darkness.  The warm light that had streaked through the window of Castle Enbarr’s meeting room had faded as the sun sunk beneath a line of dark rainclouds.  All that Ladislava could see was now by the light of a single array of candles, their flames slowly twisting in the stagnant air.</p><p>She leaned back in her seat, taking solace in the familiar creaks.  To her right, she could hear Randolph von Bergliez do the same.  He had always been a restless sort.  Further up the table, they were met with a withering look from Hubert, the Emperor’s fearsome right hand.  Across from the Vestra was a hooded woman, her hands shaky and her breath stilted.  She was called “Barnal”, and that was all she feared she would ever know about her.  At the table’s head, her gloved hands steepled as she massaged the crease in her temples, was the Emperor of Adrestia, Edelgard von Hresvelg.</p><p>Edelgard sighed, her gaze bowing lower.  The common folk often thought of the Emperor as a goddess, and to her foes she held the reputation of a demon, but Ladislava knew the truth.  The Emperor was human, with every wonderful and painful implication that held.</p><p>“The Alliance is rallying.” Hubert muttered.  “Spies across Riegan territory tell me that Claude and his allies are in the midst of raising an elite fighting force at Garreg Mach.”</p><p>“What of Faerghus?” Edelgard replied.</p><p>With a hacking cough, Barnal spoke.  “Cornelia has the Dukedom under control.  She assures me that dissent is being dealt with.”</p><p>Randolph couldn’t hold in his grimace.  Ladislava made eye contact, silently urging him to correct himself, but Barnal’s hood swiveled their way, and she thought she saw the glint of teeth from the darkness within.</p><p>“Have you objections, boy?”</p><p>“I do.”  He looked up the table.  “Emperor Edelgard, we cannot simply allow Cornelia to do as she pleases!  Surely you’ve heard the reports of her tyranny, how can we say we stand against such things if we abide them in our ranks?”</p><p>“Pah!”  Spit scattered across the table as Barnal scoffed.  “You would show the Holy Kingdom your belly, and they would gut you.   Best we keep the snow rats under proper pressure, or they’ll infest us.”</p><p>“Enough.”  Edelgard’s voice was clear now, the strength returning to her.  “Barnal, Randolph has the right of it.  Remind Cornelia that if she steps over the line again, she will have me to contend with.”</p><p>As the hooded mage shrank back in her seat, head shaking in disgust, Ladislava gave Randolph a quiet nod.  She sympathized with him, hated Barnal and Cornelia and their mysterious allies, but knew well that continuing to antagonize them never resulted in much more than an argument and a headache for the Emperor.</p><p>“General Ladislava.” </p><p>Hubert’s cool tone was emotionless, but Ladislava couldn’t help but feel like she was being scolded for something. </p><p>“To return to the subject at hand, you are at the forefront of the Leicester campaign.  What strategy would you suggest to deal with Duke Riegan’s gambit?”</p><p>Ladislava leaned forward, retrieving a dagger from her breast pocket and tapping it on the map of Fodlan at the table’s center.  “Our attempts to crack through Derdriu’s defenses have been unsuccessful so far.  Even without the Duke present, I do not believe we have the strength to take the capital at the present time.”</p><p>Edelgard nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration.</p><p>“That leaves us to deal with this new force the Duke is cultivating.  If they are stationed at Garreg Mach, they could descend the mountains into Varley territory, but with Charon at their rear, that’s a death sentence, and I think Duke Riegan will know that.”  She studied the aged canvas, lightly tracing her blade around the monastery at Fodlan’s center.  “Likewise, they could strike at Charon, but such a ploy seems no less foolish.  Thus, the only logical course of action left to them is to enter Leicester through the contested territories near Gloucester lands.”  Ladislava turned her gaze to Edelgard, who returned it.  “Your Highness, I believe we should shore up our defenses in those areas and lie in wait for them to make a move.  When they are vulnerable, we strike.”</p><p>“An astute observation.” Edelgard noted.</p><p>“I agree.” added Hubert.  “General Ladislava, we will leave you in charge of coordinating our occupation force’s movements.”  He tilted his head.  “General Bergliez, you will-”</p><p>“Hold a moment, Hubert.”</p><p>The spymaster fell silent at Edelgard’s voice.  She sat up slowly, and Ladislava took note of the way she favored her right side.  “I have an additional item of note.”</p><p>“My lady…” Hubert began, his head drooping, but Edelgard continued to speak.</p><p>“There have been recent rumors of the presence of a certain individual operating near Garreg Mach.”  She leaned forward.  “The Ashen Demon, Byleth.”</p><p>“Bah!”  Barnal shook her head quickly.  “The Demon is dead, Your Highness.  You saw them perish yourself!”</p><p>“The Professor is not the type to fall so easily.” Edelgard retorted.</p><p>“While I agree with you, my lady…”  Hubert sighed.  “This is the fifth rumor of Byleth’s return in as many years, and we have spent a considerable amount of time and resources chasing these baseless claims.”</p><p>“You’re not wrong, Hubert.  However, Byleth is too powerful to be ignored.  We need more information.”  She looked up, eyes burning with a familiar intensity.  “General Ladislava, can I trust you to be vigilant in this matter?”</p><p>Ladislava bowed her head.  “Of course, Your Highness.”  As she looked back to Edelgard, the Emperor nodded, then began to sit back down.  As she shrank back, she started to breathe heavily.</p><p>“Your Highness?  Are you well?” Ladislava asked.</p><p>Edelgard waved her hand.  “I’m alright.  Simply fatigued from a long day.”</p><p>This time, Randolph was the one to turn to Ladislava, an eyebrow raised.  This wasn’t the first time Edelgard had used that excuse.  “Emperor Edelgard,” he asked, “Have you considered seeing the court physician about your fatigue?  It seems to be happening quite often recently.”</p><p>Hubert grumbled, swooping on the errant statement like a hawk.  “General, while your devotion is admirable, your prying is not.  The Emperor can make her own appointments.”</p><p>“This meeting is adjourned.  Thank you all for attending.”  Edelgard stood, and, with a flourish of her cape, walked out of the room, the heels of her shoes clacking against the stone floors.  Wordlessly, Hubert followed at her back.  As Barnal departed as well, her hood pulled tightly over her face, Randolph walked to his fellow general’s side.</p><p>“Something’s wrong with her, isn’t it?” he asked.</p><p>Ladislava shrugged her shoulders.  “I know nothing more than you do on the matter.”</p><p>“Really?” Randolph replied, eyebrow raised.  “You’re her personal guard.  She tells you everything.”</p><p>“The Emperor has become much more…”  Ladislava’s tongue writhed against the roof of her mouth as she searched for the right word.  “Private, as of late.  Her affairs are her own.”</p><p>A heavy sigh came from Randolph.  “Yeah.  I get that.  Guess there’s no use digging where I shouldn’t be.  At least not if I don’t want Vestra hovering over me.”  He stopped walking for a moment, holding up a hand in the Adrestian military code for “Halt”.  Ladislava followed suit, looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“I’m heading out tonight.  We’re going to be keeping an eye on the monastery, waiting to see if Riegan makes a move.  It might be a while before we see each other again, Ladi.  Up for a drink, for old time’s sake?”</p><p>Ladislava shook her head.  “I may be departing early, and I would make a poor example for my troops if I arrived in Leicester slurring my words.  I’m afraid I will have to decline.”</p><p>Randolph chuckled before extending his hand.  “Yeah, you’re probably right.  We’re not as young as we used to be, I suppose.”</p><p>As Ladislava wrapped her fingers around his and shook his outstretched hand, she smiled.  “Good luck, Randolph.  Stay vigilant.”</p><p>The younger man chuckled, nodding.  “You too.  Come back in one piece, alright?  You’re the best we’ve got out there, Ladi.  If you fall, I don’t think the rest of us will be far behind.”</p><p>With that, they parted ways.</p><p> </p><p>The first thing that strikes Ladislava now is the pain.  Not the same she had felt before, caught in the rapids, her limbs cracking against the rocks of the Airmid, but a dull pain, like a morning’s ache, spread across her entire body.</p><p>Her body.</p><p>She isn’t sure how she still inhabits it, how the life hasn’t left her somewhere in the river.  She remembers bits and pieces.  </p><p>The attack on the bridge.  Ferdinand, caught in the throat by a bolt of lightning.  The grin of the duke.  The fall.  The water.</p><p>Everything was there, muddled and torn, but present.  And yet she can’t piece it all together, totally unable to hold more than one thing in her brain without watching it all fade away again.  It feels like trying to hold onto a handful of sand, watching it drip between her fingers.</p><p>She tries to flex her wrists, curl her toes, but nothing happens.  It is as if her body is unresponsive, connected only so much as to feel pain.  Her chest, which had once burned, now simply simmers, tingling so faintly she can feel every thump of her own heart.</p><p>“Are you awake?”</p><p>Ladislava can’t move her head.  The voice drifts in as if from a dream, ephemeral and unplaceable.  It is high pitched, then low, then gone.</p><p>“Can you hear me?”</p><p>With a feeling like prying metal, Ladislava forces her lips open and lets out a faint hiss of air.  It is the most she could do in this state.  The murky collage of colors that float before her eyes shift slightly as a shadow enters, its shape twisting like water.</p><p>“Stay alive.”</p><p>The world fades once more.</p><p> </p><p>She is somewhere else now, her senses functioning again.  The cold breeze of a wind’s chill is biting at her, and as she regains sight, she wishes something would take it away again.</p><p>Before her is a scene of carnage, the Myrddin Bridge stained red with blood.  A sea of corpses seems to extend for miles, every single one of them clad in Adrestian Crimson.  She recognizes each and every face locked in their final moments.</p><p>Honoroit, the blacksmith who forged her first axe.</p><p>Russeau, the cook who made her favorite meat pies and stews.</p><p>Frantel, the innkeeper from her hometown, who called her “Lady Ladi” and displayed her childhood drawings on the bulletin board behind his desk.</p><p>Erin, the maid from Enbarr Castle who had welcomed her to the palace for the first time, given her a tour and stood by her side during Edelgard’s coronation.</p><p>And Hanna.</p><p>No.  This can't be real.</p><p> </p><p>“Look what you’ve done.”</p><p>Someone drives a boot into her back, and Ladislava crumples to the ground, on her hands and knees as a terrible pressure digs against her spine.</p><p>“Here I thought you’d at least put up a fight!  Ah well, I gave you a chance, and you blew it.”  Footsteps clack against the stones as Duke Riegan steps before her, squatting to be near eye level.  “Shame on you, Ladislava.  You couldn’t do anything right, could you?”</p><p>She wants to retort, but the boot drives down again and she closes her eyes in pain.  When she opens them, Duke Riegan is gone.</p><p>“A disgrace to the Empire.  Unfit for service.”  Randolph is sneering down.  “Always knew you’d meet your end in the dirt.”</p><p>The figure shifts again.  </p><p>“I’m disappointed in you, Ladislava.  I thought you could protect our home and usher in a new age.  But now I see, now I see that you are unworthy of your rank and your station.”  Edelgard scowls. </p><p>Ladislava opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.  </p><p>Edelgard slowly shakes her head until it falls off.</p><p>Ferdinand is there now, a lightning bolt embedded in his chest.  He raises his lance, speaking in a voice that is not his own.</p><p>“Death to the failure.”</p><p>As it plunges through her back and Ladislava finds the world beginning to melt away once more, she’s confused, upset, and worst of all, thankful.</p><p> </p><p>Reality, or so it seems, returns to Ladislava in a blur.  The dull pain covers her body like a blanket, and a thin film stretches across her vision, but pulling what’s left of her focus together, she can just barely make out what’s in front of her.</p><p>A figure in a yellow dress is pressed against a chair, a wooden bowl in her lap and a spoon in her hands.  When Ladislava tries to focus enough to read the expression on its face, a searing pain rips through her head, covering the room in a flash of red and nearly whisking her out of the waking realm once more.</p><p>“Hey.  Stay with me.”</p><p>The voice is soft, like the wind chimes that once hung outside her bedroom.  It is the first tangible connection to the real world Ladislava has felt in…</p><p>How long has it been?</p><p>“Come on.  Head up.”</p><p>She obeys the voice as best she can, struggling to lift her neck, but her hair suddenly feels as if it is made of chains, heavy and thick as her entire body revolts against any kind of movement.  Ladislava, however, has never been one to surrender easily.  As she slowly rises, the figure extends the spoon towards her.  With another burst of effort, Ladislava opens her mouth and tries to suck the contents down.</p><p>The liquid feels foreign on her tongue, making her entire mouth tingle.  She hacks and sputters, able to feel the hot soup dripping down her chin.  A tinge of shame arises, as an honored Adrestian general caught in such an undignified position, but with her survival on the line, dignity is a falsehood that she has no intention of keeping.  </p><p>The arm draws the spoon back, dipping it in the bowl once more before returning it to a tempting position before her mouth.  Another painful lurch carries her to the nourishing food, and Ladislava quickly sucks it down her throat as hunger gurgles in her gut.  She hadn’t felt hungry before, but she hadn’t felt much of anything.  After several more spoonfuls, her vision has cleared to the point that she can make out the features of the woman before her.</p><p>She is somewhat petite, her muscles unformed by combat or training.  A curtain of auburn hair frames her face as blue eyes survey Ladislava’s weakened form.  Her expression is serene, but the crease in her brow betrays that the woman is not as cheerful as she seems.  </p><p>“Can you eat more?” she asks.</p><p>“No.”  Ladislava attempts to say, but all that emerges is an airy rasp, the voice torn to shreds by the sharp pains in her chest.  She shakes her head as the woman’s lips set into a thin line.</p><p>“Then rest again.”</p><p>Without another word, she stands and leaves the chair behind, walking out of Ladislava’s field of view.  As the general tries to decipher all of the thoughts in her head, the film over her vision slowly returns, and sleep with it.</p><p> </p><p>She is unsure how many times she has awoken when she finds herself able to feel her legs.  Slowly, carefully, Ladislava rises up.  A mane of unkempt hair tosses itself in front of her eyes as her shirt peels away from the bed, and her extremities numb in protest at their sudden renewed motion.</p><p>Her field of view is clearer now, more than she can remember.  The room is fairly small, wooden logs stacked atop each other into walls that frame it.  A red rug covers the floor, beneath the sparse furnishings that fill the space.  A table sits at the center of the chamber with a plate upon it, and a dresser hangs half-open against the wall.  The window above the bed she rests upon is covered by a black curtain, leaving only faint light to trickle through the corners.  It is bolstered by a candle that rests atop a desk on the opposite side of the room, next to a second bed.  Near the front of the room, a wooden door suddenly opens.</p><p>A woman steps inside, the same one she remembers, covered in a set of woodsman’s clothing and carrying a small basket.  When she sees Ladislava, her eyes widen, and she slams the door shut.</p><p>“Who...who are…”  Every word is a struggle as Ladislava’s mouth fights against her, refusing to move in the way she wants.  “Who are you?”</p><p>“You shouldn’t be sitting up.”</p><p>“Who...where am I?”</p><p>The woman approaches, the basket forgotten on the floor.  She slides into the stool beside the bed and begins to speak.</p><p>“My name is Elena.  You’re outside the village of Laertes.”</p><p>“Lay-yer-teez?”  The word is unfamiliar on Ladislava’s tongue, though she isn’t sure if it’s simply the fault of her current condition.  Elena swallows, eyes narrowing.</p><p>“We’re in the Leicester Alliance.”</p><p>A chill slowly traces its way up Ladislava’s body, starting in her toes and creeping through her limbs as the memories coagulate into deductions.  </p><p>Laertes was a village near the Bridge.</p><p>She is in enemy territory.</p><p>Elena continues to survey her form as Ladislava’s mind races, the familiar tingle of adrenaline working its way through her body.  The door is mere steps away, and she can likely reach it within a few moments.  The woman is of little threat, unarmed and likely untrained, and though Ladislava wishes her no harm, she can easily push her out of the way.</p><p>As Elena’s eyes are drawn to the window, Ladislava makes her move.  She tries to leap from the bed and comes tumbling to the ground, her body refusing to move at the speed of her mind.</p><p>“Whoa!  Hey!”  </p><p>Elena lurches forward, catching Ladislava by the arms before her head can hit the floor.  With a grunt of effort, she heaves the general back into the bed.  “What was that?  You’re in no condition to-”</p><p>“I won’t talk.”  Ladislava does her best to set her face in stone.  She sees realization slowly dawn on Elena’s.</p><p>“No, that’s not what I…”  Elena sighs.  “This isn’t an interrogation, and you aren’t a prisoner.  The war...the war is over.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’ve been here for about a year now.  The war ended nine months ago.”</p><p>Her head pounding, Ladislava feels her sense of reality dwindling as the room spins.</p><p>“Emperor Edelgard is dead.  The Adrestian Empire is no more.”</p><p> </p><p>Once more, the world falls away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Super Secret Author's Notes:</p><p>- I wrote the first section of this months ago as part of my initial draft of the fic idea, but the rest is fairly recent!<br/>- Elena is my first ever attempt at writing an OC with any sort of prominent role so hoo boy I hope she's not extremely dull!!!!<br/>- I have a naming convention with my Leicester characters and locations.  You'll probably figure it out, or I'll just mention it here at some point :p</p><p>I want to thank you for reading this chapter, and let you know that feedback is always appreciated!  I'm excited to see how you all feel about the upcoming chapters, though my schedule may be a little slow to update.  I got reminded that Laegjarn Slaps.</p><p>she slaps!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Around this time last year, business at the remote hut of Elena the apothecary had been far simpler.</p><p>A rough knock sounded at the door, jolting the woman from her midday reading.  </p><p>“Coming!” she called, walking quickly to the door and peering through the glass peephole.  With the war on, after all, she couldn’t be too safe.  Thankfully, the warped shape of a gruff older man on the doorstep was a familiar one.</p><p>“Mayor Banquo!”  She forced a smile as she opened the door, the sun nearly blinding her after an entire day spent with the curtains drawn.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>“We need you, witch.” he grunted.</p><p>“Apothecary.” she corrected.</p><p>Noticing one of the man’s titanic eyebrows twitch in indignance, Elena mentally filed away a victory.  Banquo pushed himself inside, quickly dropping into the chairs set up at the table.  “We’ve got a shortage of vulneraries this month.  Wanna restock early.”</p><p>“A shortage?”  Elena crossed her arms.  “Surprising.  Your aide’s missive didn’t mention anything of the sort.”</p><p>Banquo’s face darkened.  “Some Imperials came into town on the third of the Moon.  Some of ‘em made trouble.  Young punks got into it with them.  Thankfully no casualties, but a lot of broken noses, and they made us treat their boys first.”  An indignant huff rippled the man’s mustache.</p><p>“I believe that violates the terms of the Gloucester Vassalage Accords, yes?  They shouldn’t be able to-”</p><p>“Gloucester doesn’t give a damn about us so long as he gets a slice o’ the Imperial treasury when this is all over.  Don’t lie to yourself, witch, you’re too smart to act stupid.”</p><p>Silently, Elena walked to her shelf of reagents, hovering a finger along the side as she combed the meticulously labeled contents.  She was aware of the growing tensions between Banquo and the occupying Imperial forces, despite living a few miles outside of the village of Laertes herself and only dipping into town to purchase necessary supplies.  The number of anti-headache concoctions the mayor had been ordering was enough evidence of that.</p><p>“Hmm.  Looks like I’m out of Virdileaf powder.”  With a sigh, she turned to face Banquo.  “It’ll be a hassle to gather the ingredients for a whole new batch, so this might take some time.”</p><p>“I’ll pay an extra 25% for a rushed order.”</p><p>Elena raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you were cutting back on village expenses.  Coffers seeing a swell lately?”</p><p>“Hardly.  This is coming out of my pockets.”  Emitting a snort, Banquo stood, stretching his arms.  “D’we have a deal?”</p><p>A meaty hand was extended in Elena’s direction.  She grasped it and nodded.  “Certainly.  I’ll have the batch finished by tonight and on your doorstep by evening.”</p><p>“Aye.  You’re dependable like that.”  Somewhere beneath the mass of facial hair, Banquo smiled as Elena walked to the cabinet anew.  “Ain’t a thing like your father.”</p><p>Giving the empty Virdileaf canister a squeeze, Elena stiffened.  “I don’t have a father, Mayor Banquo.  Good day.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t often that Elena had cause to use her walking stick.  Short distances were no issue for her, and even going a few miles into town was typically manageable, if uncomfortable.  Sometimes, however, her profession required ingredients that could not be bought at market or traded for with traveling peddlers.</p><p>Journeys deep into Avon Woods were not the reason Elena took an interest in the apothecary’s arts, but as she well knew, nothing in life ever really went according to plan.  </p><p>Dressed in her most durable, grass-stained leathers, a small array of bottles and canisters slung across her bandoliers, and gnarled stick in her hand, Elena trudged through the undergrowth of the woods.  The bumpy terrain made her footing uncertain, and each step brought the faint whispering of old sores on her legs and feet.  This part of the forest was still unpathed, far enough from Laertes that the townsfolk had no real occasion to enter, and not on any paths that lead further into Leicester territory.</p><p>Thankfully, Elena knew, that brought its own advantages.  So far from civilization, botanical growth continued unimpeded by human meddling.  The Avon Woods were home to a number of rare specimens that possessed great medicinal powers.  The cerulean vines that crawled up forgotten tree trunks could be added to a cup of tea for a headache cure.  The black mushrooms that sprung from patches of dirt, despite their ominous appearance, could be chewed on to reduce fever.  Nearly every flower held a secret, and nothing pleased Elena more than discovering them.</p><p>Virdileaf, the plant typically used in vulnerary concoction, was not one of these rare specimens, but a certain spot in the woods still yielded it in great numbers.  As Elena broke through the treeline, she found herself on the banks of the great Airmid river, its waters glistening in the midday sun.  Where the forest soil met the water’s edge, the silt deposits formed an ideal environment for Virdileaf growth.  Sure enough, several thin, pale green reeds formed a diminutive curtain between the land and the water.  With a grunt, Elena lowered herself to the ground and retrieved a trowel from her knapsack.  Her work had begun.</p><p>Most amateur potion-makers used the leaves of the Virdileaf plant in their curatives, but Elena prided herself on a few tricks she’d developed.  One of them was the knowledge that the roots were far more potent, and could be used to make a far greater number of doses.  To that end, she dug carefully, nimbly moving the trowel around like a surgical instrument as she extracted each fragile root system with great care.  It was sweaty, exhausting work, and she’d always prefer the sturdy floor of her cabin to a squelching patch of dirt, but Elena carried on nonetheless.</p><p>Even she had to admit there was a certain calmness in watching the river run its course, babbling and churning as it flowed.  Debris from up north occasionally floated its way down, catching Elena’s eye as she worked.  Bits of driftwood, likely from the Great Bridge upriver, discarded scraps of cloth, and to her pleasant surprise, what seemed to be a mostly intact basket.  </p><p>With a grunt, Elena stretched as far towards the water’s edge as she could, extending the walking stick in an effort to pull the floating basket towards her.  Slowly but surely, her nudges coaxed it towards the bank, even as the current pulled it further downstream.  A light scraping sound announced the basket’s arrival, and Elena eagerly made her way towards it, her soaked walking stick left to rest in the dirt.  It was a simple craft, but fairly waterproof, to her pleasant surprise.  It could easily be used as a gathering tool after a washing.  So it was with a pleasant grin that the apothecary looked up at the river once more, only to be horrified by what she saw.</p><p>A great wave of debris nearly filled the narrow waterway, bits of burned wood and torn banners congealing into a mass of detritus.  Amongst the scattered objects, the river's tint changed, the water running slightly red.  As Elena looked further up the river, her stomach churned.</p><p>She had seen bodies before.  Training in the healing arts had lead to that much.  But those were medical cadavers, corpses prepared for instructional use that had often simply passed quietly in their sleep.</p><p>The bodies that were floating down the river had not gone peacefully.</p><p>Soldiers, clad in uniforms of both the Adrestian Empire and the Leicester Alliance, were being dragged slowly along the river’s course.  Many of them had visible cuts or scorch marks, some still face up and bearing the last looks of shock upon their faces.  A sharp pain alerted Elena to the fact that she was gripping her own fists so tightly she’d nearly broken the skin.  As the macabre parade continued, she closed her eyes, reaching out to the forces of life around her.</p><p>It was a simple trick, often the first bit of Faith magic a healer was taught.  She could feel no heartbeats, no sound, no sense of life from the bodies that drifted along the stream.  It was like sticking her hands into a tub of ice, her extremities clamming up as an involuntary shudder surged through her body.  The emptiness of it all was overwhelming, and her immediate response was the urge to pull back.</p><p>But she didn’t.</p><p>Elena had heard of war, of course, read nearly every history text in her family home and seen the monuments that towered above city streets.  She had watched as men in Leicester colors marched in formation past her hut, only to watch Adrestian banners paraded through it in the next month.  She had brewed fewer fever cures and cleaning solutions, their orders replaced with wound sanitizers and funerary balms.  </p><p>This, though, was the first time that Elena ever felt she had truly encountered war, and she basked in it, never wanting to forget.</p><p>In the distant reaches of her senses, something stirred.  Somewhere, floating down the river, she could see a dim light in her mind’s eye.  It was too large to be a fish, and fainter than she had ever encountered before, but undoubtedly present.  Carefully, she rose to her feet and began to walk opposite the river’s current.  Scanning the grisly display further made Elena’s teeth clench, but the promise of a potential life was worth the inconvenience.  What sort of healer would she be if mere sights could deter her?</p><p>Floating alone, a few feet apart from the nearest clump of debris, was a figure clad in silver armor.  The armor itself was decorated strangely, with two ornamental wings adorning its shoulders.  Her face was up, revealing feminine features, her eyes closed as tightly as a corpse’s.  Chestnut hair spilled around her head into the water, and black wyvern blood caked the metallic surface of her armor.</p><p>The faint glimmer of life pulsed within her core, just beneath the Adrestian twin-headed eagle emblazoned on her chestplate.</p><p>For a moment, Elena stopped, watching the body float.  The Leicester Alliance and Adrestian Empire were at war, and this woman was an enemy combatant.  Judging by the ostentatiousness of her armor, she was no mere foot soldier either.  She was under no obligation to help this woman, who surely would never dream of helping her.  This was the way of war.</p><p>As Elena’s eyes fell across the blood spattering the Adrestian’s face, she recalled the oaths she had taken; to prevent harm as an apothecary, and to defend the Alliance as a proud citizen of Leicester.  Obligations crashed in her mind, every decision a contradiction and every thought a betrayal.</p><p>Elena, however, was not a woman without her own principles.  The healers had taught her much, as had the teachings of the Alliance, but in the end, this was a decision too important to leave to guidelines or instructions.</p><p>It was her own compassion that lead her to the river’s edge once more, walking stick extended and a determined grimace on her face.  Moving the armored woman seemed as if it would be far more difficult than the basket, but to her surprise, it didn’t take much force to change the Adrestian’s course.</p><p>As the armored body scraped up against the shore, leaving Elena to grab an arm and heave it onto the silt coast, the thousand questions in her mind coalesced into one.</p><p>What now?</p><p> </p><p>The time it took to go home and fetch a wheelbarrow gave Elena plenty of time to ponder if what she was doing exactly counted as “treason”.  She liked to style herself as a rational woman of science, but there was unfortunately no chemical formula that could balance an equation comparing the Moral Goodliness of “Rescuing An Incoming Drowning Victim” against “Betraying Your Country”.  It wasn’t as if Leicester had ever slighted her, the fatherland more of a father than the man ever was, but she knew she couldn’t just leave someone to die.  That didn’t prevent her from wishing that perhaps some other kindly soul would have ushered the unconscious woman to safety by the time she returned to the creekbed, but the woman’s limp form was still where she’d left it, leaning against a stump.</p><p>Preparing herself for exertion, Elena swept her hands behind the back and knees of the Adrestian and tried to lift her.  Surprisingly, she met with little resistance.  The way the armor hummed slightly as she touched it provided an answer, this was some sort of weight-decreasing enchantment.  She recalled a conversation with a soldier she had delivered vulneraries to, in which he explained that these were common for warriors who fought astride flying beasts.  She studied the unconscious woman’s face.</p><p>Wyvern Rider.  She just looked like a Wyvern Rider.</p><p>Gingerly, she loaded her abnormal cargo into the wheelbarrow, emptying her collection of gathered Virdileaf atop her in case anyone happened to walk by.  She wasn’t exactly hidden, but Elena was loathe to spend any more time near the rose-colored river than she had to.  Her head spun as she pushed through the forest, pieces of plans whirling about her mind as she tried to figure out exactly what she was going to do about this.  She realized now, more than ever before, how the trees of Avon Woods seemed to twist at the midsections, giving them the appearance of leering figures, peering down at her.  Shadows danced between the boughs as every leafy crunch conjured images of an Adrestian assassin squadron hellbent on retrieving their comrade, or a stern Leicester general who would have both of their heads.  The cabin she called home had never looked so inviting.</p><p>With the Wyvern Rider properly (or as close as Elena could get) laid out on the hut’s guest bed, a piece of furniture that was seeing its first use now, the healer began analyzing the patient.  First, she stripped the plate armor away, a more arduous task than she had expected.  Military types had an addiction to unnecessary complexity that Elena found frankly ridiculous.  Once they were entirely removed, the Adrestian was left in a simple set of leathers.  Upon closer inspection, she was smaller than Elena expected, even slightly shorter than her.  Despite that, the woman was clearly muscular, her arms toned and stiff.</p><p>All of the muscles in the world, however, couldn’t save her from what Elena deduced to be a fall from a massive height.  The collision with the water had resulted in several deep violet bruises on the woman’s limbs and torso.  A nasty cut, caked in dried blood, ran across her right cheek.  A short inspection revealed several broken and fractured bones, and her heartbeat was faint.</p><p>It was, frankly, a miracle she was alive at all.  Elena had seen cadavers that had passed from much lighter injury.  Regardless, she likely had little time left.  Time was of the essence, and the only solution Elena could conceive of was one that she couldn’t perform with her current stock of reagents.  With a growing sense of dread, she rushed out of the hut once more, hoping to reach the market before the sun set.</p><p> </p><p>Laertes, when she arrived, was livelier than usual.  A booming drumbeat underscored cheers and tambourines as she stepped into the Laertes market, coming from the central podium.  A man dressed in silver armor gestured towards the gathered crowd, his face glowing with mirth.</p><p>“Rejoice, good citizens of Leicester!  The Knights of Seiros ride once more, alongside your brave Duke Riegan!”  The gathered citizens roared their approval, seemingly energizing the boisterous knight even further.  “We have liberated the Great Bridge!  Your lands are safe from the Imperial menace once more!  We will not rest until this war is brought…”  He joyfully strut to the side of the stage and lifted a blue tunic from the shelves of a tailor’s stand.   “..to a <em>clothes</em>!  Eh?  Eh?”  Not a laugh was audible amongst the audience, and the knight, deflated, made his way offstage.  Seizing the opportunity, Elena gently pushed her way through the gathered townsfolk to reach him.</p><p>“Excuse me, Sir Knight?”  She waited until he had reached a quiet corner, away from the general reverie, to speak up.  The armored man turned to face her, a smile unfurling beneath his plentiful mustache.</p><p>“Salutations, Madam!  Happy day of liberation!  Anything you need a hand with this evening?”</p><p>“Just a question, oh brave one.”  Her experience with nobles had made Elena an expert in buttering people up.  She wasn’t sure if the knight was a noble, but the glowing smile on his face at the word “brave” seemed to indicate her tactics were effective regardless.  “Were you present at the battle of the Bridge?  I would love to hear of the Duke’s heroic exploits!”  She was not entirely lying.</p><p>“Why, I was!”  The knight hunched forward, launching into a dramatic stance.  “It was a surprise assault, a daring strike at the heart of the Imperial force!  Behind the Duke’s majestic wyvern flew the golden flags of the Alliance, heralding justice’s arrival!”</p><p>The mention of a wyvern got the gears in Elena’s head turning.</p><p>“Oh my!  And what of the enemy forces?  Did they have wyverns among them as well?”</p><p>The knight’s eyes widened.  “But of course!  Blotting out the sun!  Legions of fearsome flying beasts!  Among them, the Empire’s strongest rider!  Edelgard’s Wings herself, General Ladislava!”</p><p>She struggled to keep her expression neutral, not even having to feign her interest.  “I don’t believe I’ve heard of that general!  Tell me of Ladislava, Sir Knight.”</p><p>“One of the Empire’s greatest warriors, stalwart and fierce!  They say that no foe has seen either the wings of her mount or the wings on her armor and survived!”  He placed both hands on his hips, grinning.  “But that was before she faced us!  I saw the duel myself, a daring aerial battle between the general and the Duke himself!  With a shot from his Hero’s Relic, Duke Riegan slew her beast, sending the general to her end in the river below!”  The knight shook his head.  “A shame.  I hear she was an honorable woman.  If she had only remained faithful to the Goddess, perhaps she could have made for a great ally.”</p><p>“A shame indeed.”  Elena turned, her eyes wide and her heart pounding.  “Thank you for your service, Sir.  Happy day of liberation to you as well.”</p><p>If the knight had any parting words, she didn’t comprehend them.  The apothecary had far more pressing concerns on her mind, and evidently, an Adrestian general in her guest bed.</p><p> </p><p>Night had fallen by the time Elena returned to her hut, a satchel of emergency supplies slung across her shoulder.  She tied a mask around her face, lit a bundle of carefully mixed herbs, and lifted her walking stick to screw the cap off of it.</p><p>Staring back at her was a red gem, easily the most valuable thing she owned.  A gift, from a previous life, from a woman she never knew.  As she concentrated her magic into the stone, it glowed faintly.</p><p>In the right hands, a staff as powerful as this could end countless lives.  In her own, she prayed it had the strength to save even one.</p><p>As she recited the incantation, her faded memory struggling to string the words together, Elena felt every joint on her body ache and strain.  Every second felt as if a force had sunken inside of her chest and was trying to pull her apart from the inside, but she clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and forced her way through.  The verdant vapors from the burning herbs swirled around her, slowly seeping into the unconscious woman’s skin.  Only when the herbs were ash and the smoke dissipated did she stop, tumbling into her chair as the staff clattered to the floor.</p><p>This spell was a rarely used one, a holdover from a time of great plague in Fodlan.  The Church had developed an incantation meant to freeze the body in a great sleep, for as long as it took wounds to heal, in an effort to buy themselves time to find the cure.  It would keep the Adrestian alive.  </p><p>It would keep Ladislava alive.</p><p>Elena’s eyes fell on the general again.  Her battered body lay still, peaceful, but the clutter of Adrestian armor pieces on the floor left no space to forget who this woman was.</p><p>Gazing at the blood-soaked metal wings, Elena shuddered.</p><p>What exactly had she gotten herself into?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Super Secret Author's Notes:<br/>- Elena is my first...OC, I guess?  In any major capacity?  I hope you like her, she's got ~secrets~.<br/>- you can probably guess at least one of the secrets<br/>- This is where we'll start to delve more into the war and the opposing factions in the conflict.  While I think one of Three Houses' greatest strengths is that there's so much to discuss with the different nations and their characters, I'd appreciate it if we didn't fight about which faction was right/wrong/most similar to a jello snack in the comments!  I've seen those debates get very heated to a point where it sometimes crosses into personal attacks, and right now I'd like to provide a calming space during a very difficult time with the pandemic.  Just be nice to eachother, that's all I ask &lt;3<br/>- the bodies float because that's apparently legitimately possible, but more importantly?  Aesthetic.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Super Secret Author's Notes:</p><p>-It's time for a new fic!  How will I get the readers' attention?  *Eyes dart to a red button labeled "KILL OFF A BELOVED CHARACTER IN THE PROLOGUE"*</p><p>-Sorry Ferdie, you're still one of my favorite characters, I promise!</p><p> </p><p>Welcome to a fic that's been a long time coming!  Back in January, I posted the fifteenth chapter of a fic called "Luck of the Draw" that included a mention of Ladislava and "GIFs".  A commenter named RisingChaos made a joke about "Ladislava's GFs" and I went "HMMMMMMMMMMMMMM", audibly, for several minutes.  That was a subject I was interested in writing about!  I came up with the basic outline for a story that night, but let the idea mostly simmer as I worked on completing my major project.</p><p>Now that LotD is finished, I'm proud to announce that idea has borne fruit!  This story is intended to be my new "long-term" project, and it's a subject I'm very excited to write about and show you all!  I have a well documented weakness for side-characters, and Ladislava was one I absolutely wanted to work with.  While this story won't be as light-hearted as LotD, I hope it's still something you'll enjoy reading!</p><p>So anyway, please tune in to my fic about a wyvern-riding woman presented as an antagonist with a noble personality who you encounter while fighting back against the invasion of an allied nation and who ultimately falls at your hand, the focus of a fic by me that will deal with her coping with life after canonical death and finding love in an unexpected place as she grapples with the consequences of her actions!</p><p>wait</p><p>what do you mean that's laegjarn i was talking about ladislava</p><p>wait</p><p>OH NO INTSYS FOUND MY TYPE THEY'VE GOT ME UNDER THEIR THUMBS HOW DID THEY-</p></blockquote></div></div>
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